Distant
by TheInevitableKind
Summary: Troy Bolton had the most rustic face I've ever laid my eyes on; too bad he didn't seem to care nor notice.  Sharpay/Troy pairing, Rated T for language Fluffiness...


The small things you hear in the distant are the burdening cries of the dead.

At least, that's what I thought. What I knew.

A strange world I lived in, breathing in the fumes of the unknown, touching the pain in incognito, living the inevitable.

Sometimes us, the lost, need to learn that to live, you need to make sacrifices, to make sacrifices, you'll need to learn how to live.

"No more than 5 shall please my heart, darling. Don't hastily sweat and fret your eyes out today hmm?" Yes mother.

"I can't hear you love." I tilted to face her and slowly nodded my head, "Yes." I whispered, grabbing the mackintosh, laying some crumpets inside.

I had to swallow my hearing, having to suffocate my voice, making sure my needs weren't met.

That was how life was supposed to be. One crack at the tick.

"Well where do you think ye'r goin'?" He stopped me, giving me a thorough look, "Ye'r need those boys alone, e'right?"

Ironic when to live, your body was the only way to do so.

Slut. That's what he called me. A whore, skank, bimbo, gold-digger, a trashy little scum bag.

"Yes." I whispered once again and my voice drifted away. His voice was dominant, his voice was over-powering. It destroyed me. It destroyed her. Himself, us. But he wasn't to care about others nor himself.

'Life is a struggle,' he would say, 'You want to live, then suck it up'. His words are drafted into a mourn, but the point was proven through.

Opening the door seemed like an escape, from the troubles and the wrenching sorrow that lies beneath.

Now, it felt like every frame shut itself on me.

When my foot collided with the mushy mud, with it's texture collapsing on my ankle, meddling into my skin, I took a deep breath. A real breath.

I smelled the tulips from afar, probably from the coroner's office. She wanted to make the dead the best smelling in the town. To cry over their loss, to give up their souls to heaven, to god, to emphasize that life was an ending game.

Not annual but a cycle that ended one day.

My voice cracked as I bowed my head down, and my whimpers became sobs.

This was life. Life had to be sucked into an epiphany of another man's treasure. You sell, you live. That's what I was able to comprehend from life. From my childhood.

Yes, I sold myself.

To him. To the man that is supposed to protect me. Shelter me. Provide me food.

But he ruined me.

"Well there you are, didn't think you'd show up. I just sent little Jeremy to check up on ya'." She didn't give a rat's arse about my tears, only waiting for my arrival so the rack could be set up.

"You missed 20 minutes, would you like to tell me why?" But she cared. Because she knew. Because she lived through it. And she survived.

I shrugged my shoulders, grabbing the edge of my shirt to wipe away the wet drops, sniffing to lock myself into a calm self. It didn't work. But I knew better.

To be quiet.

"I'd stay an hour extra to make up the lost." I replied, settling down my sack on the burrow of the top shelf, pulling the wooden avid door upwards, handing the keys to her.

"Today's Easter, make yourself useful and get yourself out early." I flinched at her use of words and she apologized immediately, "Sorry about that hun'."

"OK." I mumbled, sliding myself out of the 4 walls and pressing myself to the ground, my back against the shack, and the air was freely passing by.

"I do mean it though. There's nothing to do here today. I've got dinner to cook and you," she stopped, "What'cha gonna' do today sweet pumps?"

"The same old." I began to talk, "Well how pleasant that is." She sarcastically chuckled, pulling a chair beside me.

"My family coming in town. I haven't seen them in months, ya' know?" I knew how happy she was, and how excited this made her, so I smiled at her.

"I know," I replied, "Yeppers. My sister and all the rich hags comin' here, wonderful ain't it Sharpay?"

"Tell me about it." I snorted, gripping a crumpet and biting softly into it, "I got my accent on the road. Been practicing myself, wanna hear?"

Well this should be pleasant.

"Sure." I turned to face her as she coughed to get ready, "Ok, but no laughin', it breaks my esteem blondie."

I nodded my head and she went, "What a wonderful day isn't it my dear? The birds are diving into a song and my heart is soaring out my chest. The lilies are moving, oh no! The cookies, left in the oven. Dear, oh dear!" She frantically soared up, making me laugh.

"No, shit, really Shar!" She turned around abruptly, reaching for her purse and dashed down her house, "I'll be back, stay right there."

I frowned. She sounded perfectly normal. Like a human being.

Something dropped in my stomach and I felt the hole that replaced it. Whatever _it _was.

The same conversation in my head, playing once again. Her house was beautiful, it was big, she had a large amount of land, her son is a lawyer, her husband is a lawyer—ex-husband.

She is beautiful, her teeth are perfect, her smile is glistening, her body was fit, her face was lit, her clothes were knit. Her voice was a melody itself, her hair was shining at night, her nose shaped into a line.

She is so beautiful.

Why did she leave so much to settle down here? Where the west wind refuses to pass the line, where the trees creep into the sides as if there's no life.

Life.

"Hey Sharpay!" Jeremy gleamed, "I was right by your house. Throwing stones at your window like you asked. I was really silent thought. You're mother saw me, but she kept quiet, real quiet, winking her eyes in acceptance. She's really nice."

A mother who sells herself isn't known to be nice. Just two-faced. Passive aggressive.

"Would you like a crumpet Jeremy?" I asked, raising it in front of his face. And like a child given a present on his birthday, he frowned.

Birthday's weren't celebrated here, nor were they welcome to be.

It was the way life was.

"Papa came back, so mama said not to eat anything. Were leaving, you heard that right?" Yes. "Getting out of Panama, and to the Valley you know? I heard the valley was peaceful. I heard there were nice people there and that there are large amounts of sugar. And kids. Parks and things called rollet cost."

I smiled at his pronunciation, "It's roller coaster buddy."

"Yes, that! Mama said she would take me there, right after Sunday. She said that I would be going to church and praying. I don't know what that is, but I'm excited! I'm really excited. And I have to go to school, school seems fun. Whatever that is."

"School." I repeated, liking the sound of it when it dropped off my tongue.

"I might become a lawyer like Donna's son!" He was so excited, who was I to ruin it.

And I didn't feel like I should. He is going to be free, escape from the combustion and live a life.

"Mail me about life out there, won't you? Tell me about the buildings out there and humans."

"I will, I will!" He jumped up and down, his braces sparkling at his happiness.

Oh how many times I've asked them to mail me. Only to be disappointed when I found out that they don't. And that's because they're brains will be altered, to survive. This was social darwism. The fittest to survive.

He will forget. But at least he agreed to me. Live the moment, right?

Then Jeremy rolled up next to me and I looked up to see exactly what I thought.

There were the men again, holding guns. Walking back and forth in a pace, all looking for someone to spend time with. This was the morning routine.

Today was not my day.

I lowered myself into Jeremy, and begged repeatedly to be not picked.

But who was going to listen to my pleads? Every single time, I'm chosen to be turned and wanted. I was needed by these men. Because they liked me—my body.

I heard the whistle out of his mouth and looked, "Finished your hours this week?" He asked, anticipated to toss me around.

"All of them." I honestly answered, but that never helped me. They took me away anyway.

"Don't lie to me kid, I don't wanna report on you for shitting your hours and messing with my head." This was what they **all **said.

"Woah there general, hold your balls up today. Lady got to wipe my kitchen floors." He was not pleased. Rather irritated that his morning flesh was taken away.

I looked at Donna for why there was a sudden change. Like I said, she didn't give a rat's arse about some things that pertained to me.

She was not looking at me.

"The kid?" He asked, his hungry eyes at him now. Jeremy pushed himself into my arms, burrowing his face into the crook of my neck.

What a bastard. Thinking about kids when women or men weren't available.

They would adjust to anything. Men, women, children, babies or toddlers.

"I need them both Todd." She mumbled with aggravation, "Now will you move so they could get the hell up. You're wasting my time young man."

He didn't want to move, but he had to, "Alright, mam'." Courtesy my ass.

I went past him, grabbing Jeremy who wrapped his hands tightly around me.

I hurried down the path and dashed through the door without thinking twice.

Jeremy ripped away from me and gave me a feared look, "It's OK now." I went through his hair and give him a stern look for him to realize that I was assuring him that we were fine.

I turned to look at the door and saw Donna walking up the wood plank, well Donna called it the porch.

"Get yourself something to eat buddy, there's some warm cookies on the table. Make yourself comfortable." She winked at him, closing the door as she walked past me.

I followed, up the stairs and into her room, colored with blood—maroon. Guns were laid on the bedsheet, "I need to put this away somewhere. The attic is stacked with gas masks and shattered glass. People in the town get scared easily. They'll think I'm crazy or something."

You are living here.

"So where?" I asked, subsequently noticing these were nothing to be scared off. Just death toys. That's all.

"I need to disassemble them. All of them. Put them in the shack, close it for a week," I froze, "Don't worry, you'll get you're daily money."

I sighed and leaned forward and grabbed the gun, this was going to be easy.

"Give me an hour."

"Well you have half of that, they're coming today. So I'll help you as well as Jeremy. We'll put them in the boxes on the side and you'll go downstairs and open the door, talk with them, but not looking like that."

I frowned, tracing a finger down my mackintosh, "I have some dresses in the closet. Shoes too. Grab a pair and wear it, got it?"

I listened as well as multi-tasking.

"What's a town?" I asked, "Haven't I told you this already."

"You've told me many. Streets, apartments, cotton candy, pumps, tacos, television, phone, photo's, chairs, heck, we call these beds lie ons, not beds."

"Too much to bear?" She smirked, finished with one gun, settling the pieces in a bag before she laid them in a box, "A town is a densely populated area which is smaller than a city and has boundaries. They aren't as much as fun to live in than a suburb. Very peaceful and quiet there my dear."

And we talked. We talked and talked. The conversation was mild and daft, Jeremy wasn't interested at all. He was humming an anthem, Donna calls it the national anthem. It sounded delightful.

As time passed by I went to look through her 'closet', which I call the depository, and ran my hand through the texture of these dresses.

They were beautiful.

Not knowing what to do, I put one on, and some knick knacks, which Donna calls flats.

They were comfortable.

The door rang.

Donna lifted her head up, her face went pale but then went back to it's complexion, she rambled through the 'tape' and lifted it over the box.

"Go open the door and start a chat. Don't put yourself in a ramble, it sounds pathetic my dear," she picked a box, as well as Jeremy, "Offer them some drinks. There is water in the cooler and other beverages. Tell them to sit down. And don't sit with your legs up, your undergarment will show."

I blushed, twisting the nook of this dress, "Go on now. Run there Blondie."

And I did. I ran.

Thank my soul for having the door unlocked, as she says. I pulled it wide open to be greeted with faces of different colors. One was black, maybe two, then there was a pale brown, like the mud, it was strange, very strange.

"Hello," the woman standing spoke, "I'm—"

"Come on in. I know whom you are. You must be Vivviane Bolton, good evening madam." I moved aside as they strolled in.

"Well, yeah that's me." She piped up, setting her bags down, "And you must be…?"

"I'm Sharpay. I live at the mudd—" I slipped, "I live a block away Madam." I fixed, walking inside with the crowd following.

"House maid?" Jesus Christ, us compared to humans in the outside world have used a book filled with different vocabulary. To me a lamp is known as a flare, to cook is what I call to blanch.

"Not really?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh Vivianne, my love, how nice it is to see you!" Donna cried, literally. She waved her hands in front of her sister, giving a gentle hug to her, and then filling the enticement with tears.

It was a little strange to understand Donna at all. It's as if—what does she call it—bipolar. One minute she's careless and then suddenly has some sympathy. I repeat, she has never saved me before. Usually yells at me for coming so late and not finish the 'business' faster.

And then her voice. Her accent changes and she seems to forget it does. Then she lets me wear her dress.

I smiled as they rolled by, one by one.

Jeremy rolled next to me, cleaned up as well. A 'Killers' shirt with shorts, his hair sprawled in all directions. It was cute. He was cute.

"Excuse me?" A suitcase nudged my toe, making me look up to see the small disturbance of my graciousness at the others.

His eyes were blue, shades that covered at least half his face, facial hair covering his lips and his cheeks. His complexion was rather neutral, not too pale nor not too tan. His hair swayed to the left, maybe gel constricted the flow of movement.

"Can I get some water?" His voice was melancholy.

I moved back, alarmed at when I remembered what _he_ told me. Don't go to boys.

This man in front of me, he wasn't asking for me but it was vice versa.

Stay away from him; I made a mental note.

"Of course." I turned away, excusing myself appropriately, grabbing Jeremy with me. I walked into the canteen—kitchen. The cooler—fridge was filled with beverages—drinks, there was beer, wine, champagne, monster, sprite, coca cola.

"Jeremy, have you found some water?" I questioned.

The glass was pushed in front of me, his lips falling into a frown, "I have to go. Tell Donna that I will make sure to visit tomorrow, before I leave that is."

I pouted, getting on my knees, "You be careful out there, hmm?" I placed a palm to his forehead and he rested on it, "Tell your mother that I'll be there tonight to hand some pastries for her blooming self, would you?"

Jeremy saluted and then bolted out the door, leaving the glass in my hand.

I got up off my feet, brushing my knees to scrape away the dust.

I walked swiftly into where they were sitting, humming the anthem to myself.

"Well there you are dear," Donna took the glass away from my grasp, handing it over to the young man that took a diligent seat next to, what seemed to be, his friends, "Sharpay dear, this is my sister, Vivianne and her husband Daniel."

"We've met. Cute dress you've got there." She address, winking at me, "Nice to meet you." Her husband, Daniel, is what I recalled, said.

"It's wonderful making your acquaintance madam and sir."

"She's rather antique I always say," Donna laughed, the two joining in, "Her mother has accomplished to make Blondie here, more ravishing."

"Yes, you look beautiful." I liked this woman, "It's very hard to find young woman these days that are able to keep themselves together without cussing their eyes out. It's very disturbing." I was confused but nodded my head.

"Thank you madam." What was cussing? Is it possible to pluck your eyes out while _cussing_?

"And these are just some of Troy's friends," Donna pointed to the lad that was smirking at me, pulling his lens off his eyes, "There's Chad, Ryan and Zeke."

His eyes were glistening, so much that I could swim in them, "Glad to make _your_ acquaintance." This man, Zeke, grinned as he reached over and lent out his hand.

I shook it respectfully, "The same goes for me."

"Well were done with the introductions. Today is going to be a rather large day, now come on, let's take some showers, refresh ourselves and then hang in the back, grab a beer or two and see the northern stars, don't we?"

"Panama has northern lights?" Chad wondered, "Of course not. Bloody hell, I was thinking I would shoot a cracker or two and shove it up in the air."

They chimed in together, chuckling at her use of language. My, was she vulgar.

"Do you drink Sharpay?" I flinched in disgust and that answered it all.

"Well, I should take a picture and bring it back home to show the quintessence of how a young girl should be. Bring out the camera Dan, we got ourselves a golden child."

Golden child. That's what _he_ would say.

Donna cleared her throat, catching onto exactly what they said, "There's some mail in the box outside, can you get them for me darling?"

I stepped out of the room immediately.

It got harder to breathe. My head began to throb in a repeated momentum, making my body to cringe and sit on the front of the house, on the path that led to the road.

A moment of silence was what I asked for and was denied.

I recalled the footsteps, gaining my posture to linger my eyes at the feet that walked past by me.

"What ye'r doin' here child?" He coughed, taking a puff out of his cigar. His nasty lips falling into a smirk, the idiot-like eyes swayed to stare down at me.

"Donna has asked me to spark a conversation with her family," I answered, "father." I finished.

Step-father.

"Ye'r gettin' some money?" The obvious question. If I said, 'Of course not,' he wouldn't think twice when he would reach forward and slam a hand against my face, "The same."

"Gud. Ye'r mother is waitin' for ye'r sorry ass back home," he took a larger huff, "Cum' back tonite and give me sum' of those money and then give her a hug and come back here, you hear?"

I nodded, "How much the lady givin' you?"

"The same." I repeated, "Don't forget, oi'?"

"Alright." I spoke and he left, picking up his cripple leg and tossing a rock to the nearside puddle, the smoke from his mouth trailed back to me.

I was used to his smell, his stench, the reeking and wretched smell of rats with oil spread around them. It burned my nose and then my throat. If I weren't used to it, I would have puked the moment he walked near me, but since I've grown with the stench, his smell just burned.

Really burned.

"Whose the guy?" A little alarmed, I tilted my head to see whose voice had come to talk to me, "You okay?"

It was Troy

"Of course," I replied, moving down so he could sit down, if that's what he wanted, "That's my father. My mother married him when I was born. My father was never found. He was in the military, that's what mother says."

He chuckled first and then looked around, mostly at _him_ until he left.

"So he's your step-father?" He laid his hands on his thighs, clearing his throat as he placed his body on top of the pavement, "Yes."

We were both silent. I watched the leaves fall down, just about ready for the marsh weather and it's horrid effects. But wasn't it so beautiful. The snow falling to only melt on your skin, freezing up your extremities.

There would be no leaves, no fret, he would leave, mother would be safe, I would be safe.

That's what I was waiting for.

"Are you sure you're OK?" He asked once again, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You left real fast. I don't know what my mom said to make you look like that but I'm sorry, you know."

He apologized, "You've got nothing to worry about, I'm alright, really," I laughed, "It's nothing really."

He only shrugged his shoulders, "So what did I look like?" I asked.

"It was strange," he started, "I can't say anything but the fact that I've never seen someone give a look like that. It made me—us feel sorry. We are sorry Sharpay."

"Like I said, it is nothing to worry about. Just brought up something I wished to forget."

"If you say so, then fine," he sighed leaning back, "How long have you lived here?"

"I was born here."

"It seems strange doesn't it?" He murmured, "It's like a whole new world."

A small conversation.

"Do you like it here?" He questioned, "I mean, I know you've grown up here and spent all your life here, but do you really like it here?"

"Of course, there's cinemas and a lot of wonderful places to visit. A historical site that is well preserved. You should see around."

He chuckled, "You're very excited about a dump that has wood to replace metal and boxes to replace a sewage system. It seems like you're living in medieval times, there's nothing fun about that."

"I don't know how it is out there," I hesitated at first, "Mother says it's a dangerous world."

"We have to take risks to mature," he pointed out, "When I finished high school, I left immediately and got myself a place to crash before first semester in college started. Sure, I was scared at first and wanted to puke at the twit-faced asses in the world, but I knew it would get better."

"And what if it doesn't?"

He grabbed my hand and whispered softly so it was only audible for me to understand, "It will."


End file.
